harrym,
Yes, I too first wrote my memoir of RAF service, under the title of "Jottings", for the benefit of family and friends, and well remember the extra explanatory text you had to put in to keep your readership "in the picture". But that was balanced by the fact that then nobody knew enough to contradict you, whereas now you are at the mercy of an extremely knowledgeable and critical crowd all too ready to leap on you !
Having said that, I read your story with growing interest, particularly when you describe the luxury of the Dakota cockpit. Autopilots, comfortable padded seats, windscreen wipers, a heater which actually worked, radio ditto, a co-pilot to do all the work, a Nav who could really navigate, a signaller who knew which way to twiddle the knobs....The list is endless, it was a shame to take your pay ! What more could a man want (yes, I know, a F/E to start the engines).
All sorts of little things ring bells. The glorious "Pratt & Whitney Sound" - once heard, never forgotten. All the family had it: I flew behind, at various times, a Wasp Junior (Valiant), a Wasp (Harvard) and a Twin Wasp (P47 Thunderbolt). The "Sound" was the same from all of them.
I remember the control external locks (wooden wedges with long red streamers attached)- I was always happier (as a passenger on the first flight of the day) when I saw them all out (and chucked in the back of the cabin) before I climbed aboard !
They were later (as I understand) in the C-54s which replaced them, by a mechanical locking system applied in the cockpit, and I only know that from a tale (sourced from "Flight" magazine) which utterly defies belief, but which I may retell one day (if the Mods will let me), as it is miles off-Thread.
Your tank drain taps may have been wired-off, but in India it was SOP to drain the condensed water off first thing every morning; you would often get a cupful at each point if the tanks had not been refilled to the brim after the last flight of the day before. (Possible connection with the 777 at LHR a while back ?)
Loughborough rail station, you may recall, is ingrained in my memory: it was my destination, as I Posted long ago - on the night I lost the (occupied) coffin in my charge
(or thought I had !) en route to the place.
Enough, this is too long already. Danny.